


can i try again, and again, and again?

by strawberry_sky



Category: Not Another D&D Podcast (Podcast)
Genre: ...or at least with a conflicted ending, Angst, Angst without a happy ending, Betrayal, F/F, Gen, Lovers To Enemies, The Nannerfly Effect, time loops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-10-28 11:41:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20777978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberry_sky/pseuds/strawberry_sky
Summary: It was supposed to be over. They saved the world, they were supposed to get to be happy. That was the deal.But then Thiala had to go and develop a god complex. And sometimes you can’t love someone enough to save them from themselves. Sometimes you have to save the world from them instead.Even if it takes you six lifetimes.





	1. watch

**Author's Note:**

> Alanis is a chill badass stoner living one of the saddest fucking stories in this whole podcast and I have a lot of emotions about it, and about the Legendary Heroes in general. This is a heavy fic, y’all. There are no happy endings here.  
This is tagged Alanis/Thiala because that’s the main relationship I’m exploring but this is not about them being happy and in love, or Thiala being redeemed. Thiala is broken and confused and too powerful for her own good. This isn’t about her, it’s about Alanis coming to terms with her betrayal and with what it means to be the only one who can defeat someone that you love.  
Spoilers through 56, some implied spoilers for episodes 73 and 76.  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-8eB64pXoGU  
Alanis: https://sofhtie.tumblr.com/post/188571698839/alanis-hey-murph-please-give-this-girl-a  
Thiala: https://sofhtie.tumblr.com/post/188566538754/drinkingdeadpeopleteas-alanis-fic-is-so-so-good

“The moon is gorgeous tonight.”

Alanis cracks open one eye and peers through the trees at the yellow orb hanging above them. “Oh, _ fuck_, it really is. Big-ass yellow moon. Love it.” She closes her eyes again and re-settles her head on Thiala’s thigh.

She can feel the slight shake of Thiala laughing as she combs her fingers through Alanis’s curls. “You’re so stoned.” 

“I’m always stoned,” says Alanis, even though she’s actually not _ that _high, or at least she’s coming down from it. 

On the other side of their little bonfire, Ulfgar lets out an enormous snore. It’s comforting, after all this time. The smell of the fire, the sound of crickets in the woods, the great dwarven snores of her best friend. But it’s also comforting to know that this fire is in front of a safe little stone house, and it is comforting to know that Alanis can throw up a magical mansion or teleport anywhere whenever she wants, and it is comforting to know that the worst is behind them. 

(The nagging voice in the back of her head reminds her of the new devil on the throne of Hell and the black sores growing on Ulfgar’s skin and the things Thiala has been saying, lately, but Alanis will not think about that at all.)

“I can’t remember the last time I saw a full moon,” says Thiala. “Last one we were still down in the Hells.” 

Alanis lets out a low whistle. “Fuck, you’re right. Feels like a lifetime ago.” 

“Feels like yesterday,” says Thiala.

“Yeah. That too.” 

They’re quiet for a moment. This is one of the first quiet nights they’ve had—the past few weeks have been a storm of celebrations and meetings as everyone tries to figure out how to put the world back together. But finally, Alanis and Thiala and Ulfgar were able to slip away from their separate pursuits and reunite at the little stone house which had been Thiala’s before all of this started. 

“You’ve got soot on your cheek,” says Thiala, rubbing her thumb across Alanis’s skin.

Alanis grins. She reaches up and catches Thiala’s hand, interlacing their fingers and pulling herself into a sitting position. “Remember when you always used to do that even when there was nothing there? Just so you had an excuse to touch me?” 

Thiala smiles slightly. “There was nothing there right now,” she says, and leans in to press her lips against Alanis’s. Alanis drinks her in, all her milk-and-honey softness, the miracle of the fact that this girl who made hell burn with radiant light is _ hers _.

Thiala pulls away, but leaves their foreheads pressed together. 

“We’ve come so far,” murmurs Alanis. So far since they were a cleric with an overabundance of hope and an asshole elf with something to prove. 

“Not far enough,” says Thiala.

There’s a beat of silence.

Alanis pulls away. “Come on, Thia, don’t start this again.” 

“Alanis, we can fix everything, I found something—” 

“That’s not the deal! We saved the world, we get to _ rest, _that’s how it’s supposed to work!” 

Thiala laughs, a little hysterical but still quiet enough not to wake Ulfgar. “Saved it? For what? We didn’t _ save _anything, we just swapped out one king for another! Evil still reigns!” 

“People! We saved _ people_!” 

“Not enough people, not everyone! People still died, and for what?”

“Thiala, I don’t want to have this fight again—” 

Thiala grabs both of Alanis’s hands in hers. “I can fix it, Alanis,” she says, desperate but fiercely determined. There’s a glow in her golden eyes, or maybe it’s just a reflection of the firelight. “I can make it better. I can make it _ perfect_.” 

Alanis laughs, and immediately regrets it as she sees Thiala’s eyes harden. “Babe, I have never once doubted that you can do anything you say you’re going to, but ‘perfect’ is a little lofty, even for you.” 

“It’s not,” says Thiala, firmly. “I promise it’s not.” 

Alanis narrows her eyes. They’ve had this argument several times over the past weeks, but Thiala’s been off the grid for a couple of days, and now there’s a hardness in her voice that wasn't there before. “What do you mean by that? What did you find?” 

Thiala ignores the question. “Are you with me?” She holds Alanis’s hands even tighter. “You don’t have to believe me, you just have to trust me. Do you _ trust _me, Alanis?” 

Two weeks ago it would have been an easy answer. Thiala is searching Alanis’s face with an open vulnerability and a hopefulness that cuts right to Alanis’s heart by means of years spent walking through fire together. Of course Alanis trusts her. 

Doesn’t she?

Thiala is the surefire certainty to Alanis’s skepticism. She’s softness and fierceness all at once, she’s the soul to Alanis’s mind and Ulfgar’s heart. Thiala is holiness and openness, all golden hair and glowing eyes, all freckles (thirty-four, Alanis has counted) and rounded human ears and dimples when she smiles and white shirt half-unbuttoned.

But Alanis lets her gaze travel down past Thiala’s chin to her neck and collarbones, to the smooth and bare skin which Alanis’s mouth has touched in frantic we-might-die-tomorrow kisses and gentler ones when they had all the time in the world and Alanis feels her stomach drop.

“Thia,” she says slowly, “where’s your amulet?”

Thiala glances down, quickly dropping Alanis’s hands and pulling the fabric of her shirt together. “It’s—nothing. It’s nowhere. It doesn’t matter.” 

“It really, really does,” says Alanis, and she’s shifting into combat mode now, calculating, because Thiala never, ever takes off her holy symbol. Has she had it at all today? Damn it, Alanis had let her guard down. “What’s going on, Thiala?” 

“It’s _ fine_, Alanis,” Thiala snaps. “I just don’t have it. There’s nothing going on. Check if you need to.” 

“I will, thanks,” says Alanis sharply, and quickly mutters the words of _ Detect Magic _. There is no illusion, no mind control. Thiala herself always glows with a little bit of magic, and usually it’s soft and golden, like a clear day just after sunrise. Right now, her magic seems brighter than usual, but it’s white, harsh and blinding, and when Alanis drops the spell she has to blink away sunspots in her eyes. 

Thiala hasn’t been the same since they got back from the Hells. None of them have.

But this is different. 

“What the fuck did you do?” 

Thiala smiles, like she’s letting Alanis in on a fun secret. “I told you, I found something. I can cure Ulfgar, I can kill Ilsed, I can burn the Nine Hells to the ground. _ I _can. Not Pelor. Me.”

“You broke your oath.” Alanis can hardly believe the words as she says them.

“What’s wrong?” says Thiala teasingly. “You were always telling me not to wait for Pelor to do everything.” 

“Yeah, as like, friendly banter, or because I was worried about you, I didn’t mean for you to break your oath just because you got all power-hungry!” Alanis can’t help but raise her voice, and Ulfgar’s snores stop. 

“I’m going to fix everything,” Thiala repeats, standing. Light seems to stick to her, or maybe it’s under her skin, and her golden hair is _ floating _somehow. “No more relying on gods or kings, isn’t that what you wanted, Alanis?” 

Alanis is also slowly getting to her feet, somehow both absolutely blindsided and cursing herself for not seeing this sooner. She shoots a glance at Ulfgar, who is also now awake and getting to his feet. The dwarf just looks confused. 

“What’s going on?” he says, but Thiala stays focused on Alanis.

“I want you with me,” she says softly. “I _ need _you with me. We can do this together.” 

For a second, Alanis considers it. She lets her mind explore a world where she, Thiala, and Ulfgar are brilliant and burning, where they shape Bahumia to be exactly how they want it. A world where no one can threaten them, where Alanis can explore the limits of magic. Where she can live in Thiala’s light for the rest of her life. 

“What about the people who won’t want you to just take over?” 

Thiala shrugs carelessly. “We’ll deal with them when we get there.” 

Yeah. That’s why that world can’t exist. “Deal with them? Come on, Thiala, this isn’t you.” 

Thiala pauses. For a second, something sad flickers in her face. “But it is me. It’s me and it’s even better.” She stretches one hand out to Alanis. “Please, Alanis. Are you with me?” 

There was a time when Alanis would have followed Thiala anywhere. But she won’t follow her here. 

Alanis takes a step back, shaking her head. “No. You need to stop this _ now _. We can talk about it, we can figure something out, we can—” 

The spell is so subtle that if Alanis wasn’t already on her guard, she would have missed it. As it is, she sees the powerful charm effect flash from Thiala’s fingertips and she twists out a _ Counterspell _, breath hitching with the effort it takes to halt the strength of Thiala’s magic, even as Thiala raises her other hand without even looking and the second charm hits Ulfgar right in the forehead. 

Ulfgar staggers back, furrows his brow. For a second Alanis thinks he’s going to shake it off, but then his eyes narrow in familiar battle rage and he grabs his axe. 

_ Oh, shit. _

But this is still Thiala and Ulfgar, they won’t hurt _ her _, right?

The blast of radiant light slams into Alanis’s shoulder and she lets out a cry of pain as she feels her flesh burn, and now Ulfgar is bearing down on her with his axe swinging. Alanis dodges the first attack but the second one impacts in her still-burning shoulder and the third one hits her in the gut so hard that Alanis barely has the breath to choke out the words for _ Hold Person _and freeze Ulfgar’s furious form just inches away from her. 

“Don’t fucking do this,_ ” _Alanis says through gritted teeth, pressing her free hand against her burned and bleeding shoulder as the other concentrates on holding Ulfgar.

Thiala looks genuinely sad. “I don’t want to hurt you, Alanis, I really don’t, but if you’re not with me you’re in my way.” 

She casts another charm, which Alanis _ Counterspells _ again _, _but they’re both firing at high levels and Alanis knows she can’t keep doing this forever. 

“Then let me get out of your fucking way,” she snarls. 

She glances over at Ulfgar, who is still enraged, straining against her spell, and she wishes she could take him with her but it’s too dangerous, Ulfgar hasn’t been the same since that black rot started growing on him and Alanis doesn’t know who she can trust anymore, but still she says “Sorry, Ulf, if you’re still in there, I’ll come back for you.”

Ulfgar only answers with a yell, and Thiala doesn’t answer at all, and Alanis drops _ Hold Person _ and casts _ Teleport _ and now she’s collapsed against the wall of her old workshop in Gladeholm with tears running down her cheeks. 

Alanis allows herself 30 seconds of body-wracking sobs and 30 seconds of furious screaming, and then she grabs a healing potion from a nearby shelf, pulls the cork out with her teeth and knocks the potion back. 

“_ Fuck,” _ Alanis says through gritted teeth as she angrily wipes her mouth and scrubs the wetness off her cheeks. She wishes she couldn’t believe what’s happening. She wishes she didn’t know, deep down, that she’s been ignoring the danger in Thiala’s talks of power and perfection and in Ulfgar’s vacant, angry stare. _ Fuck this. Absolutely fuck this. _

She has to move. Thiala knows where this workshop is. She’d helped Alanis infuse a couple magic items with divine power, and also they’d made out on that table over there, but Alanis is _ not _ thinking about anything related to _ that _ right now because there are much bigger things going on. Alanis herself is the smartest person she knows, and she’s smart enough to think that things are only going to get worse from here.

So she gathers up all her most powerful and least distinctive components and she uses the last of her high-level spell slots to _ Teleport _ to the middle of nowhere and summon her _ Magnificent Mansion _ and smoke until she passes out.

Alanis spends the next few days hopping between workshops and libraries, collecting as much powerful and important stuff as she can. She tries to warn Gladeholm of what’s happening, but after what happened with the fight against Asmodeus, Alanis is not someone that Gladeholm listens to. 

Besides, the last thing she wants to do is draw attention to herself. She doesn’t know if Thiala is looking for her, but Alanis is first and foremost a scientist. The first step in the scientific method is observation, so Alanis will watch, and she will wait. 

So she slips into the Feywild and hides there, and she breaks down the relics the three of them had found and fought for to make wish stones without any real plan of what to do with them.

And things get worse even faster than she imagined. Over the next couple of years, Alanis watches Thiala become a god. She watches her descend into Galaderon, watches the Chosen wipe out the White and Green Knights and whoever else dares to stand in their way. She watches cities across Bahumia fall to Thiala’s blazing armies, watches as Thiala raises them again in her own image and fortifies them against Ilsed’s forces. 

Alanis watches, and she hates the moments when she can’t see anything of Thiala in the golden god and she hates the moments when she knows those are the lips she has kissed and she hates Thiala most of all.

Is this Thiala? Or is Thiala gone?

Which is worse?

Several times, Alanis thinks about coming out of hiding and jumping in. Half-formed plans and possible _ Wishes _dart around in her mind, but they never seem right. There are just too many factors, too many things Alanis can’t count on. There isn’t enough time. 

So Alanis will make time. And as she watches Thiala bend the world to her will, she thinks of the last moment that felt normal, and she knows what she’s going to have to do. 

When Thiala and Ilsed charge at each other on the battlefield, Alanis watches. In fire and light and the screams of a thousand innocents, they destroy the world, and Alanis resets it.


	2. kill

“The moon is gorgeous tonight.” 

Alanis’s eyes snap open. Smoke and campfire. The big yellow moon. Ulfgar’s snoring. The comfortable ease of her head on Thiala’s leg and Thiala’s hands in her hair. 

Alanis feels sick. The last time she’d been here, there was so much she hadn’t known. 

She sits up, displacing Thiala’s hands, and rubs her face. She came here for a reason. She came here with a plan. And the spells she prepared before the reset seem to have carried over, which is...good. It’s what she needed to happen. It’s good. 

“You okay?” Thiala is watching her carefully, brow furrowed with concern. 

From Alanis’s perspective, only a few minutes ago Thiala was a god soaring into battle with an army at her heels. But now she’s here, solid and real and...and mortal.

“Yeah,” says Alanis. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking.” 

“Thinking about what?” Thiala rests her hand on Alanis’s forearm. 

Alanis tries not to flinch away from her touch. She has never been able to lie to Thiala. She flashes her half a smile and tries not to think about the exactly thirty-four freckles on Thiala’s face. “The past.” 

Thiala murmurs in understanding and takes her hand off Alanis’s arm. For a moment, both women stare silently into the fire.

“Why’d you ask us to meet you here tonight?” Alanis asks.  _ Did you plan this all along? _

There’s a long beat before Thiala answers. And then, very quietly: “I found something. We can fix everything.”

“What did you find?” 

“I found a way to become a god,” Thiala says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. 

So she did plan it. She called Alanis and Ulfgar here just for this. Alanis shakes her head. “Of course you did. You lied to us about the divine heart, didn't you?  _ Damn  _ it, Thiala.” 

Thiala scowls. “Oh, don’t be like this. Bahumia is divided, we could barely even get them to come together to fight Asmodeus when he was threatening the entire plane. We could do better. You  _ know  _ that we could do better. Don’t pretend like you haven’t thought about it too.” 

“Don’t you dare put this on me!” Alanis snaps back in a heated whisper. “Of course I’ve fucking thought about it, you know I’ve thought about it, but I didn’t want this!” 

“Well, what did you want, then?” Thiala asks softly. 

Alanis can’t answer. 

She stands up abruptly and walks a few steps away, turning her back on Thiala. There are so many things she wants to say, so many questions she wants to ask, but she can’t, because from Thiala’s perspective none of that has happened yet, and because Alanis came here with a plan. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, holds it. 

“I’m trying to save everyone, Alanis!” she hears Thiala say.

_ Like fuck you are,  _ thinks Alanis, feeling the furious fire flare in her heart again. She has seen Thiala’s idea of “saved,” Thiala’s idea of “better.” She knows what Thiala did, what she will do if she walks away from here. 

Did, is doing, will do, it’s all the same, isn’t it? Thiala killed everyone Alanis has loved. Thiala is turning her back on everything she claimed to stand for. Thiala will destroy the entire world. 

Thiala has to be stopped while she still can be stopped. Sometimes the simplest solution is the best one, and it’s always the one you try first.

“I want you to be with me, Alanis,” Thiala is saying. “I want us to—” 

Alanis doesn’t let her finish. She whirls, one arm up as electricity leaps from her fingertips and an eighth-level  _ Lightning Bolt  _ blasts Thiala right in the center of the chest. 

In this moment, not-quite-a-cleric and not-quite-a-god, Thiala is vulnerable, and she’s taken by surprise. She falls back with a cry of pain, dropping to one knee, skin burning and clothes smoldering. 

Ulfgar’s snores stop as the dwarf bolts awake, instantly looking around for the threat, reaching for his axe. “Thiala! What’s going on?” 

“It’s not what you think, Ulfgar, I can explain—” Alanis starts to shout to him.

Thiala cuts her off. “She went crazy, Ulf, she’s trying to kill me!” The franticness in her voice is at odds with the hardness in her eyes as she brings her hands together and sends a blast of radiant light at Alanis’s face. 

It sears Alanis’s skin, blazing hot and freezing cold at the same time, and Alanis can only get out a gasp as the scientific part of her brain quietly notes what she missed last time, that this is not a cleric spell. 

The light clears and Alanis can feel her own blood trickling down the side of her face, but she sets her teeth and reaches for the lightning again, sends it streaking at Thiala and is met by another radiant blast, light and electricity back and forth.

In the side of her vision, Alanis is aware of Ulfgar charging at her with his axe in his hand, but her eyes stay locked on Thiala, who looks up at her with golden hair half covering her face, a face full of fury and hatred but also of pain and betrayal and  _ fear _ , and Alanis came here for a reason but she almost loses her nerve.

_ Power Word Kill  _ is a half-choked cry in Alanis’s throat that she thinks might be Thiala’s name. 

It works. 

All the light is gone at once as Thiala tips sideways, golden eyes open and unseeing, mouth set in something between a snarl and a smile.

“NO!” Ulfgar screams with more fury and loss in his voice than Alanis has ever heard, and then his axe is swinging down at her, once, twice, three times, and Alanis takes all three hits because  _ she just killed Thiala _ , and of course she  _ had  _ to but that doesn’t change the fact that Thiala is dead on the ground and she can’t very well  _ Revivify  _ herself.

However, three blows from Ulfgar Trueaxe—one in her shoulder, one in her stomach, one in her chest—is a lot for anyone to take, and Alanis can feel the shortness of her own breath, the dizziness in her head, the burns and blood all over her body. One more hit and she’s gone.

She reaches one hand out and grasps at Ulfgar’s tunic. “Ulf, you have to believe me, I  _ had  _ to,” she tries to explain, but there are tears in Ulfgar’s beard and one party member murdered by another is quite enough for tonight. “I’m so sorry,” Alanis gasps out, and lets him go, and casts  _ Teleport,  _ and for the second time collapses against the wall in her workshop and sobs. 

But she did the right thing, and it’s  _ over _ , and no one in this world will ever really know why Alanis lost her mind and killed one of the people she loved most but it’s okay, and she’s done it. 

She comes out of hiding. She explains the broad strokes of the situation to the king in Gladeholm, who does not believe her, and to Lucanus, who sort of does.

But when she tries to find Ulfgar to apologize and explain, she can’t. Even with all her magic and all her intelligence, she can’t find her friend anywhere on this plane or others. Which is a very, very bad sign. 

He finds her, as it turns out. He finds her months later, with the army of the Nine Hells at his side, and there is red in his eyes and black sores on his face and so much hatred in his heart.

Last timeline, there was light and fire and an explosion that wiped the entire plane. This time, there’s just hellfire. 

This time, Galaderon is the last place to fall. Alanis stands at the top of the castle with the last few powerful mages in Bahumia as they cast their protective spells and watch the unrelenting tide of fiends approach the city. 

Quietly, Alanis casts  _ Sending _ . 

“I’m so fucking sorry, Ulfgar,” she murmurs. “I know you won’t believe me, but she was going to destroy the world. I had to kill her.” 

There’s silence for a moment. Then Ulfgar’s familiar voice, low and angry. “You could have done something else. It’s too late now. The world’s getting destroyed either way.” 

Alanis stands there for a moment in silence, staring out the window, watching the burning armies and falling angels as behind her the wizards and clerics frantically plan their last stand. 

_ The world’s getting destroyed either way. _

_ And I tried killing her before I tried saving her. _

She pulls out the second wish stone. 


	3. guide

“The moon is gorgeous tonight.” 

Slowly, Alanis opens her eyes. She lets out a very long breath. There’s the moon, big and yellow and full. There’s Ulfgar, snoring, sick but still sane. There’s Thiala, warm and real and alive, with her hand in Alanis’s hair. 

“I can’t remember the last time I saw a full moon,” says Thiala. “Last one we were still down in the Hells.” 

“Were we really?” Alanis keeps her voice as steady and casual as possible. 

“I know,” says Thiala with a slight laugh. “It feels like forever, right?” 

“And like no time at all.”

Thiala murmurs agreement. Then she moves her hand out of Alanis’s curls and rubs her thumb across Alanis’s cheek. “You’ve got—”

“Soot on my face, I know,” says Alanis, trying not to cry. She moves Thiala’s hand away and sits up. 

Thiala is smiling at her in the flickering firelight. There’s something about the silky softness of night in the forest, a glowing fire, a big moon, and knowing all three of them are alive and together and here...

This moment feels like home, Alanis realizes. This is always what home felt like to her. 

She’s tried being strong and steadfast and violent. It’s time to try being gentle with the things she loves. 

Thiala leans forward, about to press her lips to Alanis’s, and Alanis quickly but gently rests her hand on Thiala’s mouth, stopping her as they’re only inches apart. “Did you call us here to ask us something, Thiala?” she murmurs. 

Thiala looks surprised, but she doesn’t pull away. “I found something,” she breathes. “We can fix everything.” 

Alanis looks right into her golden eyes. It's killing her to even entertain this line of thinking, but she needs Thiala to ask what she's going to ask. “What did you find?” 

“I found a way to become a god.” 

“You kept the divine heart.” 

Thiala nods. "And I threw my amulet into the ocean."

“Why?” Alanis asks, for the first time. 

Thiala doesn’t answer immediately, turning to stare into the fire. "I used to think that saving the world was a one-time thing. That you did it, and then it was over, and everyone was safe." 

Alanis nods silently. She thought that too. 

"The three of us risked everything, Alanis. And we lost so much. We lost friends, family, years of our lives. Ulfgar still has this sickness that I can't figure out how to cure. I still have nightmares every single night and I know you do too, even if you won’t talk about it. And for what? We marched into the Nine Hells and all we did is put another devil on the throne."

"But we killed Asmodeus, we stopped his invasion. We _ did _ do those things. And a lot more." 

"We just postponed the rise of evil."

"Maybe that's all you can ever do,” says Alanis gently. 

"No." Thiala shakes her head. "No. Not if I am a god. If I am a god, I can wipe it out forever. I can make everything perfect. I can protect Bahumia, forever." She glances over at Alanis. "Will you help me?" 

It's a simple question, and Thiala looks so vulnerable while she asks it, all messy hair and thirty-four freckles and eyes full of hope.

"I want to," says Alanis, and means it. "As long as we can do it without hurting people.”

There’s way too long of a pause before Thiala says anything, and if this was the first time around Alanis would walk away right now. But she waits patiently for Thiala to speak, because she has to at least _ try _.

"I don't know if we can," says Thiala eventually. "I want to, I really do. But I worry that some people won't understand what I'm trying to do."

"Then you have to promise me something." Alanis takes Thiala's hands in both of hers. "You have to trust me. You have to let me tell you when you're going too far. You have to listen to me."

"Of course I'll listen to you!" says Thiala. "You're the most brilliant person I've ever known, and I love you, I will listen to anything you tell me."

Alanis hesitates. Can it really be this simple? Can she really love Thiala enough to save her, and can saving her save everyone else?

"Are you with me?" Thiala asks.

Alanis brings Thiala's hand up to her lips and kisses it. "Yes," she whispers.

Thiala’s face lights up in a brilliant smile. “Oh, I’m so glad,” she says, placing both her hands on Alanis’s cheeks and kissing her. The shape of her lips is so familiar, but something about it tastes so sour. “I’m so glad,” she says again when they break apart.

With Alanis on board, Ulfgar is easy to convince. And this time Alanis has a front row seat to Thiala’s rise to godhood. It’s terrifying, and beautiful, and so exciting. Alanis has never begrudged the Chosen for believing Thiala is the light they were waiting for. 

For a while, it’s wonderful. The three of them are in sync again. Thiala listens to Alanis, lets Alanis temper her. They descend on Galaderon together, and it’s a little more diplomatic this time. Thiala sets herself up as the leader of the Chosen, but _ only _the Chosen, and they coexist with the White and Green Knights and the kingdom. Alanis is Thiala’s right hand, and they laugh and plan and sleep in the same bed at night even though technically neither of them need to sleep. And it’s wonderful, and the ghost of what Thiala has done in other timelines is only that, a ghost in the back of Alanis’s mind, because what is here and now is as sweet as honey.

Until it’s not. 

“You want me to enter the Mage Madness tournament so I can _ destroy Gladeholm _? Thiala, that’s crazy.” 

They’re standing in the Temple of the Light, which Thiala has made into her base of operations. Silent angel guards flank the doorways, which is something Thiala always insists on even though Thiala and Alanis themselves are really beyond any mortal threat. 

“Gladeholm is a threat, love.” Thiala is standing at the big glass window, looking out over the city. “They're isolationist, they're refusing to even hear me out. They refuse to acknowledge the value of anything besides their weak Arcane magic—"

“_I _do Arcane magic.” 

“That’s different.”

“I grew up in Gladeholm. I can’t destroy my own home.” 

Thiala turns to look at Alanis, who is standing about ten feet back, arms folded across her chest. “Well if you won’t do it I can ask someone else, but honestly, you’re the only one I trust to get it done.” 

“I’m flattered,” says Alanis sarcastically. “But I’m not going to let you get anyone else to do it either. This is too far.” 

“It’s an escalation, sure, but a _ necessary _one!” Thiala crosses the room and drapes her arms over Alanis’s shoulders. “Dearest, don’t you trust me? This is the next step.” 

“Next step to _ what_?” Alanis searches Thiala’s face. There’s a very bad feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“Peace!” says Thiala desperately. “We’re getting so close to real peace! To making sure no one else ever has to go through what we did!” 

Alanis shakes her head. “People are going through what we did _ right now_! I mean, if you sink Gladeholm you'll wipe out the elves! No one’s heard from the Crick folk since those mists covered their lands, if the high elves fall...” 

She takes a deep breath and uncrosses her arms so she can put them around Thiala’s waist. “It’s too much, Thia. You told me you’d listen to me, right? So listen now. This is too far.” 

Thiala looks at her for a long moment. “Okay,” she says, and Alanis breathes a sigh of relief. 

Thiala leans forward and gently kisses Alanis’s cheek, then steps back, out of her arms. “I really didn’t want to have to do it like this.” 

Alanis’s stomach drops. She instantly starts to bring her hands together to _ Teleport _ herself out of here but the angels move faster than she would have thought possible and grab her arms, wrenching them behind her back. Alanis starts to spit out the words for _ Dimension Door _, but a celestial hand claps over her mouth.

“Get the shackles,” Thiala orders, and one of the angels ducks into a side room and returns a second later holding chains covered in arcane runes. 

Alanis struggles against the hands holding her, frantically trying to get a full spell out, but the angels are too strong and _ has Thiala just had these chains this whole time? _

Thiala watches with an inscrutable expression as two angels force Alanis to her knees, shackling her arms and legs. The chains burn as they clamp around Alanis’s wrists, and she can feel her magic being arrested. She’s entirely helpless. 

“God _ damn _ it, Thiala,” Alanis gasps as soon as the angel removes its hand from her mouth. “You _ promised _ me!” 

Thiala smiles sadly. "I can't put anyone above Bahumia, Alanis. Not even you." 

"You’re not always right! You used to understand that!" Alanis rolls her wrists again, trying desperately to cast something, even just a cantrip, but the attempt to access arcane power makes the burning of the chains on her flesh so intense that Alanis has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out.

Thiala spreads her hands. "That was before I became a god, dearest." 

Alanis is trying to think her way out of this and coming up empty. She's still got three wish stones in her component pouch, but that means fuck-all if she can't get to them. And if Thiala kills Alanis here, it’s all over. 

Alanis tries not to show her panic on her face. She masks it with betrayal, which is an easy emotion to access at the moment. "Come on, Thiala, we don't have to do this. It's _ me." _

"But that's just it, it's _ you _!" Thiala gets on her knees so that she and Alanis are at eye level, only a few feet apart. "You're the most powerful wizard I've ever known. Honestly, if you wanted to, you're the only person who’d actually stand a chance at stopping my plans."

She's right. Fuck, she's right, and now Alanis is chained and helpless and the entire world is fucked and it's all Alanis's fault, because she was trying to save Thiala like some kind of lovesick idiot.

"So what now?" says Alanis through gritted teeth. "You kill me?" 

Thiala looks hurt. "Alanis, I could _never_," she says, and Alanis flashes back to another timeline and bolts of radiant light burning her body and knows Thiala is lying, like she's been doing this entire goddamn time.

Thiala stands. "I just want things to be how we planned them. I need you to _ help _ me." 

She waves her hand and pulls a circlet out of thin air, and Alanis's blood turns to ice as she realizes what it is. To be killed is one thing, but to be _ controlled _ , to be _ used _... "No," she breathes, and then, louder, "no! Don't do this, Thiala, please—"

"I didn't want to, but you're not leaving me much choice!" Thiala's eyes are flaring with golden light. "I'll take it off when it's all over. You'll _ understand_, then."

Alanis is struggling against the chains and the celestial hands on her shoulders but she's _ weak_, without her magic she's so _ weak, _and there’s nothing she can do as Thiala leans down and kisses the top of Alanis’s curls. 

Her kiss burns. “You still smell like lavender,” she says softly, and she places the circlet on Alanis’s head. 

Alanis’s entire body seizes against the chains as she desperately tries to fight off the crown’s influence, to remain _ herself_, but everything burns and she’s already lost and the world is nothing but fire and pain and betrayal and then—

And then it’s nothing at all. 

Alanis is a prisoner in the milky-whiteness of her own mind. She can do nothing but watch, as if from behind a waterfall, as Thiala smiles and Alanis’s body is released. Nothing but watch as her own magic levels cities, sends Gladeholm crashing into the ocean, bends the world to Thiala’s will. Years pass in a matter of seconds and seconds pass in a matter of years and Alanis can do nothing but silently scream. 

When the crown is suddenly wrenched off her head, it’s like coming up from underwater. Alanis takes a great gasping breath (her own breath!) and looks around (of her own volition!), trying to get her bearings. She’s on one knee, in a back alley somewhere in Galaderon, and she can hear shouting voices and running footsteps from not too far away.

A heavy dwarven hand pats her gently but firmly on the cheek. “Back with me, elf?” 

Alanis looks up. Ulfgar is standing next to her, bruises on his face and blood in his beard but more clarity in his eyes than she has seen in several timelines. He grins as he sees her looking at him. “There ya are! You okay?” 

“Ulfgar?” Alanis gasps out. “Holy shit!” 

He lets out a booming laugh. “Fuck, it’s good to see you, Alanis,” and wraps her in his arms. 

Alanis brings her own arms around his sturdy dwarven form and holds tight. She feels herself start shaking as the enormity of what’s happened starts to sink in. “I think I’ve done really bad things,” she murmurs into his hair. 

“You have,” says Ulfgar bluntly. “Me too.” 

“How long have I been out?” Alanis would believe any answer from “a few days” to “a hundred years.” 

“About a year,” says Ulfgar. “Not sure exactly, I was in my own bloodlust-haze for most of it.” 

“Wait, yeah,” Alanis pulls away from Ulfgar to look at him more closely. There’s no sign of black rot anywhere on his body. “Did Thiala cure you?” 

Ulfgar laughs bitterly. “As if! Not sure how it happened, actually—it was connected with the Crick, of all places, and somebody fixed it.” 

Alanis’s surprise must show on her face, because Ulfgar grins. “What, you thought we were the only heroes in Bahumia?”

“Not sure ‘heroes’ is the right word any more,” says Alanis.

Ulfgar’s smile fades and his lip curls. “This is on Thiala, not you. She tricked both of us.” 

Alanis shakes her head. “You don’t understand, I should have known better. It’s kind of a long story, but—” 

Ulfgar cuts her off. “I’d like to say we’ll have time for that later, but it depends on how much magic you’ve still got in ya.” 

Alanis quickly tries to access her spell slots and winces. She’s very nearly tapped—all her sixth, seventh, eighth level slots are gone, and most of her lower level spells too. But she does still have her ninth level. And—as she quickly dips her hand into her component pouch—she still has her wish stones. Thanks be to (almost) every god that’s ever existed, she still has her wish stones. 

“I don’t have much,” she says to Ulfgar. 

Ulfgar nods, resigned. “And I’ve taken some hits. And all the milk-guzzlers in Galaderon are looking for us.” He grabs the battleaxe from his back and twirls it in his left hand, extending his right to clasp Alanis’s. “Ya ready to join the halls of our fathers?” 

Alanis grins and clasps his hand back. “Ulfgar, you beautiful bastard. I wish I'd been listening to you from the start.” Because despite everything, despite Alanis’s weakness and her failure and the terrible things she has been used to do, Ulfgar is _ right_. Fortunately for everyone, Alanis is _not _the only hero in Bahumia. She’s been playing god, just like Thiala. She’s no better than her—but other people might be. “Of course we’re not going to fucking die here. You really think I don’t have a plan?” 

Ulfgar lets out a great dwarven victory cry. “That’s my girl!” he crows. 

“And a good thing too, since you just told them exactly where we are,” says Alanis, but she’s smiling. 

Ulfgar hefts his axe and turns to face the horde of Chosen now barreling down the alley towards them as Alanis pulls one of the wish stones out of her pouch.

She was right the first time. She couldn’t save Thiala. She _ can’t _ save Thiala.

At least she knows that now.


	4. go

“The moon is gorgeous tonight.” 

"Yeah, it's fucking gorgeous, I know," Alanis growls at the same time as Thiala speaks. Alanis is sitting up before she even opens her eyes, moving away from Thiala, trying not to throw up as she thinks about the last time she saw her. _ You still smell like lavender. _

“Alanis?” Thiala says in a surprised tone. “What’s wrong?” 

Alanis ignores her. Instead she stands up and walks around the fire to kneel beside the sleeping Ulfgar. “Ulf,” she hisses, shaking the dwarf’s shoulder. “Ulfgar, wake up.” 

Ulfgar opens his eyes, bleary at first, then suddenly alert and grabbing for his axe. “Where’s the threat?” he snarls, already in a battle stance. 

“There’s no threat,” says Alanis. “Well, actually, there totally is, but there’s no immediate threat.” She throws a glance over her shoulder at Thiala, who is still sitting on the ground by the fire, watching them with a puzzled expression. “Probably.” 

Ulfgar doesn’t answer, still staring around with a wild look in his eyes, and Alanis’s heart sinks. Compared to the Ulfgar who’d been standing between her and an army of Chosen only moments ago, compared to the Ulfgar that Alanis remembers from their adventures before all this happened, the difference is night and day. 

Until the black rot is cured, he's too dangerous. The situation is too delicate. She can’t take him with her. 

Instead, she stands, and plants a kiss on the top of Ulfgar’s head. “Never mind, Ulf. Go back to sleep.” 

“What’s going on?” says Thiala cautiously, getting to her feet, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Save it, Thiala,” Alanis snaps. “I know what you’re doing. I know you still have the divine heart. I trusted you, you know that? We both trusted you, and you said you destroyed it, and you _ lied _to us.”

Thiala says nothing, but her fists clench, and the firelight starts gathering around her as a burning golden glow sparks in her eyes.

Alanis is so tired. “I know what you’re going to ask me, and I’m not gonna help you become a god and make the world perfect, or whatever it is you think you’re going to do. But I know I can’t stop you. So I’m just going to go.” 

Without a spell slot left to cast _ Teleport_, Alanis has to settle for _ Dimension Door, Invisibility, _ and just walking through the forest until she finds a place where she can rest. Thiala does not follow.

Alanis has gotten very good at biding her time. Her plan is currently barely formed beyond ‘get someone who’s not myself or Ulfgar or Thiala to help,’ which is so simple that Alanis is actually mad that it took her three time loops to think of it. 

In her defense, Bahumia isn’t exactly teeming with perfect candidates. Most of Alanis’s friends from the old days, before Ulfgar and Thiala, weren’t really the heroic type, and the ones who _ were _ weren’t nearly powerful enough to take on Thiala, and most of the ones who were both heroic and powerful died in the war with Asmodeus. 

There’s always the archmages of Gladeholm, but they don’t exactly like or trust Alanis these days thanks to the aforementioned war. But if the high elves won’t help her, the Crick elves just might. After all, _ someone _ cured Ulfgar last time, right? If there’s other heroes in the world, it makes perfect sense that she’ll find them at the Crick.

Alanis doesn’t go to Jolene the Green right away. As far as anyone else is concerned, there’s no threat yet. So Alanis _ Plane Shift_s her way into the Feywild, to the same little island where she hid out in the first timeline. She smokes, she rests, she hangs out with the eladrin and makes friends with a Dragon Turtle. She waits until Thiala takes over Galaderon, and then she quietly returns to Material Plane. 

Alanis has only been to the Crick a few times before, but she’s always had a soft spot for it. Sure, it’s wet, and mud gets everywhere, and the humidity makes Alanis’s hair frizz up the second she appears, but the sun is always shining and someone’s always cooking up something good. 

In fact, that’s exactly what Jolene the Green, the MeeMaw of the Crick, is doing as Alanis steps out of the Feywild. She’s standing over a big pot of something spicy-smelling with about three other elves, stirring the soup with a _ Gust of Wind _ and talking quietly to the people around her _ . _Crick elf kids are running around chasing each other and playing with bullywugs, so that seems pretty normal, but otherwise Alanis immediately clocks that something is amiss. She remembers the Crick being both a very chill place and a very busy place, but right now it seems like neither. Most people are pacing back and forth, talking in low voices, anxiously fussing over the soup or staring over their shoulders at the bank of mist a few hundred feet off. Even Jolene’s big awakened possum—MawMaw, right?—seems anxious, and is sticking very close to Jolene.

Alanis’s appearance immediately draws attention. Jolene drops her spell, staring at Alanis with her mouth hanging slightly open. “Alanis! Is that you?” 

“Hey, Jolene,” says Alanis, smiling as she approaches. “Been a while.” 

Jolene wears a very guarded expression, one hand still on her staff, turning subtly so that she and MawMaw are standing between Alanis and the rest of the elves. “Whatcha doing down at the Crick?” 

“Oh, shit, sorry,” Alanis quickly clarifies, holding up her empty hands. “I’m not with Thiala. I haven’t been with her for a while. I actually want your help in defeating her.” 

Jolene studies Alanis for a long moment. Then she nods decisively. “Why don’t you and I talk in my stump?” 

“You care if I smoke in here?” Alanis asks as Jolene shuts the door to her stump, giving them some privacy, at least what passes for privacy in the Crick.

“Of course not,” says Jolene, quickly glancing around to make sure that they truly are alone. 

Alanis pulls out her pipe and takes a slow drag, then gives Jolene a curious look. “What’s going on here, Jolene? Something’s off.” 

Jolene lets out a long sigh. “You know you’re always welcome here, Alanis, but you picked quite the time to show up.” The archdruid moves aside her green cloak and rolls up her sleeve to show Alanis the black scabs all over her skin. 

Alanis’s heart sinks. “Shit, Jolene, I’m so sorry.” 

Jolene shrugs. “If my people were gonna have it, I might as well, too.” 

“What is it?” 

“We’ve been callin’ it Crick Rot. I’m pretty sure it’s my sister’s work.”

“Your sister?” 

Jolene nods. “Marabelle. My big sister. We got in a fight years ago, before you and I ever met, and she...well. She sold her soul, or somethin’.” 

Alanis flashes back to the one of the dozens of fights they’d had on the path to Akarot—to a tall woman with black hair full of mushrooms and a wicked look in her eyes. Things are falling into place. “So she’s causing people to get sick.” People, including Ulfgar. 

“I think so,” says Jolene. “I didn’t think she was capable of doin’ something like this, but…” 

“People surprise you sometimes.”

Jolene gives her a very sad look. “They do.” She reaches out and gently squeezes Alanis’s hand. Alanis finds herself suddenly fighting back tears, and sees that Jolene is doing the same. For a second, the two of them stand there in Jolene’s stump, breathing in sync.

“Anyway,” says Jolene quietly, moving her cloak to cover herself again. “I was sorry to hear about Galaderon, but I’m afraid I can’t help you do anything about Thiala until my people are safe.” 

“No, of course,” says Alanis, clearing her throat and going back to making a plan. “Has anyone tried to get rid of Crick Rot yet? Does it have anything to do with that mist?” 

“Funny you say that. My daughter and a couple of her friends actually walked into the mist to see if they could find Marabelle and defeat her. Though, well...we all expected them back by now.” 

“Okay, okay, okay,” says Alanis. This might not work, it might be nothing, _ but _… “You mind if I go try and give them a hand?” 

“Would you?” says Jolene gratefully. “Moonshine’s a _ strong _druid but I am worried about her.” 

“Hell yeah,” says Alanis, flashing Jolene a smile. “I’ll go get your daughter and then we’ll kick Thiala’s ass.” 

She’s out the door and diving into the mist before Jolene even has time to answer. It’s some nasty shit, but nothing Alanis hasn’t dealt with before, and it doesn’t take long before she starts to hear the sounds of battle and breaks into a run. 

She crashes through the trees into a clearing where there is a _ lot _ happening. In the center, two druids are going head-to-head, both with mushrooms bursting from their hair and a cloud of spores around them. Alanis recognizes the taller, paler one instantly—she was right, it’s the general of Asmodeus that she and her friends fought in the Nine Hells. And the shorter one, with the bright red hair and the ferocious-looking possum sticking out of her overalls, can’t be anyone _ but _Jolene’s daughter. 

On one end of the clearing, Jolene’s gunslinger friend Cobb (damn, there’s someone _ else _Alanis hasn’t seen in lifetimes) is firing and reloading and firing again. On the other end, a tall human with a big beard full of dwarven-style braids and an axe in one hand is shouting something at a halfling teenager wearing what Alanis recognizes as Green Knight armor, with the glazed-over look of someone who is being mind-controlled in his eyes. 

But out of all these details, what catches her eye is the holy symbol hanging from the halfling paladin’s neck. The symbol of Pelor. The healing energy emanating from the necklace. She’d know that amulet anywhere. 

Alanis may be skeptical about the gods, but if _ that _isn’t a sign…

She deftly lines up her shot and sends a ball of lightning flying right at Marabelle, knocking her back away from Jolene’s daughter and causing every head in the clearing to turn. “Don’t worry!” she shouts. “I’m Alanis, powerful wizard, not working with Thiala, MeeMaw sent me here to help!” 

“Good enough for me!” the human fighter yells back. “You got anything that can snap Bev out of it?” 

She does, and _ damn _ does it feel good to be in a battle with an adventuring party around her again. With her help, the battle is over in only a few rounds, and Marabelle’s spores drop from her hair as she falls, looking so small, so _ ordinary _, to the grass in the middle of the clearing. 

Alanis backs up to the edge of the clearing, leaning against a tree and pulling out her pipe. Moonshine and Cobb are both kneeling beside a dying Marabelle, focused on her, and the fighter is focused on them, but the paladin kid shoots a worried glance in Alanis's direction. She holds up a hand, silently telling him _ deal with this first. We’ll talk after. _

She watches as Moonshine takes Marabelle’s head into her lap and speaks to her in a low voice that Alanis can’t hear and wouldn’t care to. She watches Cobb take Marabelle’s hand, watches the fighter and the paladin put their hands on Moonshine’s shoulders. She watches all five of them go slightly transparent as they temporarily shift to Melora’s plane. She watches the Crick around her begin to heal, bursting with birdsong and sunlight and the buzzing of nannerflies. 

_ Sometimes heroes do win_, Alanis reflects, taking another long drag of Hillhome Hash. _ It still hurts, but sometimes things get better anyway. _

She watches the four heroes stand up, watches Moonshine discreetly wipe tears off her freckled cheeks, watches them all start to straighten and look around at the healing forest and—_ finally— _smile. 

She lifts her pipe in greeting as they start to approach her. “Hey.” 

“Hey, Alanis,” says Moonshine with a grin. “Thanks for the assist.” 

Alanis shrugs. “You guys like, barely needed it. Pretty great stuff out there.” She holds the pipe out to them. “Anyone want a smoke?” 

“Hell yes,” says the human immediately, taking the pipe. 

Alanis grins. “I like you.” 

“Hardwon Surefoot,” he says by means of introduction, exhaling smoke as he does so. 

“And I’m Beverly Toegold the Fifth,” says the paladin in the most earnest voice Alanis has ever heard. “Pleased to meet you!” 

Alanis shakes the kid’s outstretched hand, then nods to Cobb. “Pleasure to see you again, Cobb.” 

“You too, Alanis.” Cobb is eyeing her suspiciously, which she supposes is fair. “Been a while.” 

“Longer than you know,” says Alanis. She looks over at Beverly. “Where’d you get that amulet, kid?” 

The halfling’s hand automatically goes to the amulet. “I found it near Moonstone,” he says. “It...it was Thiala’s, wasn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” says Alanis quietly. “I’m really glad to see it doing some good again.” 

“Not to be blunt,” Moonshine interjects, “but what exactly _ are _you doing here? Moonshine Cybin, by the way.” 

“Yeah, your MeeMaw told me about you. I came to help the Crick in hopes the Crick can help me.” 

“Help you with what?” says Hardwon, passing the pipe over to Cobb. 

“Help me kill Thiala,” says Alanis, not taking her eyes off of Beverly. There’s hard determination in the kid’s eyes. “I was going to ask Jolene and Cobb and other people from the old days about it, but after what the three of you did back there…” 

She watches the three younger heroes exchange glances, some sort of unspoken communication. “‘Course we’ll help you,” says Moonshine, with a smile that warms Alanis from the inside out.

“What exactly are you thinking?” Hardwon asks. 

“I’ve got some ideas. But honestly, I wasn’t even sure I’d get this far,” says Alanis, who feels like a huge weight has been lifted from her shoulders. 

“Let’s get back to the rest of the Crick before we start makin’ plans,” says Cobb as he hands Alanis her pipe back. He looks a lot older than she remembers. A lot sadder, a lot harder, too. “Pretty sure there’s a celebration or something.” 

So they let the trees and the creatures carry them back to the Crick, and as the air gets warm and the sunshine breaks through, all of them—even Cobb, even Alanis—are laughing and smiling. 

And the Crick knows how to throw a fucking _ party _ . There’s the most delicious jambalaya Alanis has ever tasted. There’s Crick water, which Alanis hasn’t had in _ years _and which gets her more fucked up than she expected. There’s dancing, and people playing washboards and banjos, and so much happiness and hope. Even when things were good in the last timeline it was just her and Thiala and occasionally Ulfgar, and now she’s surrounded by people clapping her on the back and pulling her into hugs and feeding her crawfish and Alanis hadn’t even realized how lonely she’d been.

Alanis has to make an effort to pull Hardwon and Moonshine and Beverly away from the celebration so she can actually talk to them, but she manages a few conversations over the course of the night. They swap stories and beginnings of plans, and she knows she’s projecting but it’s hard _ not _to see herself and her friends in them. Hard not to see Ulfgar’s dwarven toughness and ferocious protectiveness, or Thiala’s kindness and fierce optimism. Hard not to see how all three of them are smiling so cheerfully and brightly, but with so much sadness and anxiety in their eyes. Walls up, right? Alanis knows how that feels. 

Maybe these three can be better. Maybe they can succeed where Alanis and Ulfgar and Thiala failed.

It’s the most encouraging thought she’s had in a while. And she lets herself get lured in by the music and the food and the community and she forgets to be looking for a threat until it’s too late. 

The washboard music cuts off mid-note as the Chosen army comes crashing out of the trees, bearing down on the celebration with swords and spears and a great battle cry of "FOR THE LIGHT!" that drowns out the screams of the Crick elves. In seconds, the sunny forest becomes a blur of blood and steel and flame. 

Alanis casts _ Invisibility _ on instinct, backing up out of the fray, watching as the Chosen leaders shout orders and whip their heads around, looking for someone, looking for _ her_. Of course they're looking for her, how could Alanis be so fucking stupid? Of course her presence would attract attention, _ fuck_, this is all her fault. 

Alanis's practiced adventurer's senses let her take in every horrible detail. Beverly had been talking to a group of young'uns, and as the Chosen descend he whips around and draws his sword, scanning the crowd for his friends but standing his ground, putting himself between the kids and the Chosen even as they cut him down. 

Hardwon is in the middle of the fight, axe in hand and ferocious dwarven snarl on his face, striking down Chosen left and right as he maneuvers his way to stand in front of MawMaw, who is snarling and ripping out Chosen throats. When an archer sends an arrow right at a bloodied MawMaw, an equally bloodied Hardwon doesn’t hesitate for a second before he throws himself in the way. 

The Chosen leaders go right for Jolene, coming at her with the same arcane chains that Alanis was bound with in the last timeline and wrestling her to the ground. Moonshine lets out a furious yell and charges recklessly toward the Chosen holding her mother, only to be struck again and again with swords and arrows before Barret Brisden finally runs her through and Jolene _ screams _, a horrible, piercing sound that Alanis feels in every part of her body.

Alanis knows she should just_ Plane Shift _ away. Butterfly effect, right? Maybe this is the first time Marabelle has been defeated, maybe that will change everything. Maybe this is already enough. 

She knows she should wait and see, but the Crick is burning and Jolene is screaming and there are defiant snarls frozen on Hardwon and Moonshine's bloody faces and the Chosen are stepping over Beverly's body to get to the kids he was trying to protect as the amulet around his neck desperately broadcasts its healing power to where there will soon be no one left to heal and Alanis can't watch this, can’t let this be the world, so she squeezes her eyes shut and grabs for the wish stone—


	5. hope

“The moon is gorgeous tonight.” 

There are tears rolling down Alanis’s cheeks as she opens her eyes. Even in the quiet calm of the campfire outside Thiala’s house, she can still hear the screams of the Crick echoing in her ears. 

She takes a deep, shuddering breath and sits up, moving away from Thiala and burying her head in her hands, waiting for her racing heartbeat to slow back down. 

“Dearest, are you okay?” Thiala sounds concerned, and her hand gently touches the small of Alanis’s back. Alanis flinches away from her contact. “What’s going on?” 

“I’m fine,” she says, wiping away the wetness on her cheeks. “It was just—a bad dream. It’s over now.”

Thiala murmurs sympathetically and moves over so that she’s just next to Alanis, not touching her, but close enough for Alanis to feel her warmth. “You’re okay now,” she says quietly. “You’re safe. I’m right here.” 

_ You’re safe. I’m right here. _Gods, how many times have they said that to each other? The first sentence has never been true. The second always was. 

“I know,” says Alanis. The screams of the dying Crick elves in her mind are fading away. _ You reset. You fixed it. It didn’t happen, just like yourself being used to destroy half of Bahumia or Ulfgar joining Ilsed’s army didn’t happen. _

(_ Does _ the fact that she erased the last four timelines make them any less real?)

She looks over at Thiala, who is staring into the fire, orange light flickering on her face. Surely Thiala didn’t order the Chosen to massacre the Crick. Surely it was done without her knowledge, surely it got out of hand.

Thiala glances over to see Alanis looking at her and smiles softly. She leans in and brushes her lips against Alanis's cheek, and Alanis closes her eyes and knows that the order came from those same lips. 

The Chosen came to raze the Crick and Alanis hid, slipped into the woods and saved her own skin while all three of the new heroes bled and died protecting people. It’s how Alanis has survived this long, hiding and running and firing spells from a distance. She was only ever strong or brave when Thiala and Ulfgar were at her side. 

Alanis has tried being the hero in every way she could think of, and all she’s brought is destruction and death. She’d almost figured it out, last time around. Alanis thought she needed other people to help her when the truth is that other people need _ her _ to help _ them. _ Alanis is alone, and she’s not strong enough. But Moonshine and Beverly and Hardwon have each other, and they have courage in their eyes and hope in their hearts, and they have Thiala’s amulet.

Or, well, they probably don’t yet, but they will. 

Alanis looks around the clearing, at the roaring fire that she lit with a spell and at Ulfgar’s sleeping form and at Thiala, white shirt half-open revealing bare skin, staring thoughtfully at the moon. At her own hands, small and dark in the firelight. 

They’re not the heroes any more. 

Alanis has to be smart about this. She only has one wish stone left, she has no other choice. She can't let Thiala get suspicious, she has to play this slowly. She has to get herself out of here and hide and wait until it's safe to rendezvous with the new heroes and do everything she can to help them. And if she’s gambled right, that will be enough. 

So Alanis pushes the emotions down further and smiles. She lets Thiala take her hand. She listens to Ulfgar snore. 

Thiala runs her thumb across the back of Alanis’s hand. “Alanis, I need to ask you something.” 

Alanis closes her eyes, steels herself. “Anything.” 

She feels rather than hears Thiala let out a shaky breath. “I’m so glad you’re here with me,” she murmurs, and for all the emotional walls Alanis has built it’s the slight tremble in Thiala’s voice that _ shatters _ her. Alanis doesn't love her, she _ doesn't _ , how _ could _ she after everything she's done? After everyone she's hurt? How could Alanis's heart still break at the shake in her voice that means Thiala is _ scared _?

_ You can’t save her, _ Alanis reminds herself, again. _ You can save the Crick. You can save the new heroes. You can save Ulfgar. You can save others _ from _ her, but you can’t save her. _

“I found something,” Thiala says into Alanis’s silence. “I found a way to become a god. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, I was afraid you wouldn't understand. But I want you with me on this. I _ need _ you with me."

A firefly takes off from in between the two of them, winding its way around Thiala’s head and drifting up into the starry sky. 

Thiala turns to face Alanis, squeezing her hand. “Are you with me, love?” 

_ Love_. Alanis knows every inch of her. Alanis doesn’t know her at all. It’s all a game they’re playing. Alanis is playing that she doesn’t know what Thiala will do. Thiala is playing at love, playing that she wants Alanis to be with her because she cares about her and not because she is scared of her. 

Alanis leans in and kisses Thiala’s soft, freckled cheek. “No,” she says. “But I will get out of your way.” 

She pulls her hand away from Thiala’s and she casts _ Teleport _and she is a little bit satisfied at the surprise in Thiala’s eyes as she goes. Alanis is better at this game. 

She’s learned her lesson from the last timeline, and is a lot more careful about disguises and subtlety this time around. She disguises herself as a Sea Hag and tucks her _ Magnificent Mansion _ inside a dilapidated old hut. She makes friends with a Dragon Turtle, but makes him the only person she ever talks to. She puts up all her magical safeguards and _ Scry_ing devices and prepares herself for the most tense long-distance entertainment she’s ever experienced.

In one of her conversations with Beverly, he’d mentioned that his father and the other Green Knights had escaped to the Feywild in the midst of the purge of Galaderon, and that he hoped he and his friends would journey there to find him soon. So Alanis will not interfere with the new heroes. She’ll just keep an eye on them and trust that they can get themselves to the Feywild--and once they do, she’ll send her Dragon Turtle to intercept them, to bring them back to her hidden mansion, and _ then _they can finally figure out what comes next. 

It’s actually kind of fun, at times. She checks in on Beverly going through the Green Teen program, on Moonshine and Jolene at the Crick, on Hardwon mining with the dwarves of Irondeep and flirting with a Bronzebeard noblewoman, which is surprising. She watches them meet in a tavern in Moonstone (she met Thiala and Ulfgar in a tavern, too) and head into the swamps to rescue Beverly’s friends. She laughs and rolls her eyes at their most ridiculous antics, celebrates their victories, bites her nails down to the quick at their near-failures. She watches them head to Ezry and learns some things even she didn’t know about Professor Duttle. She watches their encounter with the Watchman and finds some satisfaction in the fact that for all the god’s pretentiousness, she’s watching him this time around.

She watches all their adventures in Galaderon, and sees the things they told her about during their brief time together and all the things they left out. She sees Thiala’s conquest through their eyes—the panicked battle, the flames and cannons and death. She’s watched Thiala take over Galaderon three times already but it’s so much worse from this angle. 

And, somehow, so much better. The paladins rally together, save as many people as they can with no regard for their own lives. Hardwon and Cobb follow their example and end up inches from death, but come away unscathed and ready to leap right back into the battle. Beverly and Moonshine rush to save Bev’s loved ones and against all odds, they _ do. _ Her friends save the Green Knights, send them to the Feywild with a song and a prayer and a kiss, and Alanis smiles in spite of herself. 

Their fight and subsequent conversation with Ulfgar, however, is absolutely gutting. It's so hard to see her friend sick with rage, being controlled by Thiala but still fighting it every step of the way. It’s terrifying to see him up against the new heroes when Alanis knows what he’s capable of. 

Alanis is afraid she's about to watch them tear each other apart, but Moonshine stands right in front of Ulfgar, drops her weapons and calls him her friend, and the others follow her lead, and all of a sudden Alanis is standing alone in her room crying so hard that she can barely breathe. 

Later, when Hardwon asks Ulfgar about Alanis, he doesn’t know anything about where she is. “She just left,” he says. “Took off in the middle of the night and left me with Thiala.” 

Alanis needs a strong drink after that. 

She watches the new heroes head to the Crick, connect with Jolene, conquer the Elemental Chaos. She’s on edge during their entire journey through the mists and especially the battle with Marabelle. This is the moment of truth, the moment where Alanis’s presence either was or wasn’t the key to them winning that battle. And for a few terrifying seconds there, she thinks she’s gambled wrong—but she hasn’t. And gods, she's_so fucking proud of them _.

She watches as the celebration is happy and uninterrupted, watches her friends leave the Crick behind and head to Smuggler's Bounty, and she realizes, with a sudden jolt of hope, that Ulfgar is headed there too. It's a coincidence, but it's a beautiful one. Can the new heroes get their hands on the gem that Ulfgar's in? Even if they can't get Ulfgar out on their own, if they bring the gem with them into the Feywild, Alanis is confident that she can figure something out. 

She's on her feet in her mansion now, pacing back and forth, trying not to get ahead of herself but almost unable _ not _ to. Crick Rot is cured. All the new heroes have to do is get Ulfgar and get to the Feywild and then the five of them will be able to _ talk _, to figure out a plan. And the new heroes, plus a cured Ulfgar, plus Alanis herself with the knowledge of four timelines and with one more wish stone? They might actually be able to pull this off.

As she's thinking this, she watches on her misty screen as Beverly and Moonshine and Hardwon and their new athlete friend head to the pirate ship—and just when things are looking up, they go down very, _ very _ fast. Cannons go off, and weapons are drawn, and in a matter of seconds Beverly is down and bleeding out on the top deck while Hardwon and Moonshine go back-to-back below deck, trying to hold off a horde of pirates and doing a good job, but not quite good enough. And for a second it seems like Apple Scrumper will manage to save all of them, but then she's cut down by one of the last few pirates left alive and Alanis is left standing in the middle of her mansion, staring at the bodies of the friends who never even got to meet her. Some fucking pirates. Some fucking ordinary-ass pirates, and it's over.

Alanis drops the _ Scry. _She goes outside. She sits down on the beach and stares silently out at the waves.

She's out of time. There's only one wish stone left. There can be no gambles, no experiments. Whatever she does next has to be perfect.

And she has no goddamn clue what she should do.

She has ideas, of course. She always has ideas. But she has nothing that she believes in enough to be sure that she could make it work. No way to know that the same thing wouldn't happen again, and then she really truly would have failed and the world would end for _ real, _permanently.

She is so tired.

Back on the Material Plane, things slowly degrade, just like they did in the first timeline. Thiala unites Bahumia in a single, glowing empire and takes it to fight Ilsed and everything is destroyed. 

Here in the Feywild, too, Queen Ezra freezes the entire Summer Court and uses it to conquer all of the Feywild. The Crone of the Sea's remote island remains untouched, but the Summer Court falls to Winter and Spring and Autumn become barren, empty lands.

  


Alanis sits alone on the beach and smokes and drinks and feels numb as the world ends around her.

  
  
  
  
  
  


And then, the Dragon Turtle is coming towards her with something on his back.

Alanis lifts a hand to shield her eyes and squints as he approaches. She doesn't bother to disguise herself any more, the only person who could be looking for her blew herself up already.

As the Turtle gets closer, she can see that the "something" on his back is actually two people, halflings by the looks of it. Both of them are bloodied, wearing beat-up armor and with swords strapped to their backs. One of them is supporting the other, who looks to be barely holding onto consciousness. 

"I found some people in trouble," says the Dragon Turtle as he approaches. "They seemed nice, I thought you'd maybe want to see them."

The less-injured halfling, a broad-shouldered man who looks a little confused but mostly just worried, raises his free hand in greeting. "Hail! Very sorry to disturb your island here, but please, my wife is very hurt, we just need somewhere safe to rest for the night.”

There’s something very familiar about the halflings, and for a second Alanis is distracted by trying to figure out what it is, but then she shakes herself back into the present. “Of course!” she says, scrambling to her feet and wiping sand off her pants. “Yeah, no, of course, come right in, you’ll be safe here. I think I’ve still got a couple healing potions lying around, too.”

The halflings climb down off the dragon turtle’s shell with the awkward gracefulness of injured athletes. Alanis leads them to her hut and hears them gasp as they move past the hut’s door and through the door to Alanis’s _ Magnificent Mansion. _

“Healing potion,” Alanis says to one of the invisible servants, who immediately whisks off to get one.

Alanis turns back to the halflings, who are still standing just inside the door, watching her somewhat warily. “L—lovely place you have here,” ventures the man, and the woman who is heavily leaning on his shoulder manages to rouse herself enough to roll her eyes.

The invisible servant returns with a healing potion, and Alanis hands it to the halfling man, who very gently tips up his wife's chin and helps her drink. Immediately, color begins to return to her cheeks, and she takes in a deep, steady breath and stands up straight. 

"You okay, love?" says the husband, still watching her carefully, one hand poised at her hip. 

The woman nods, and then looks at Alanis and narrows her eyes. "Who are you? Why do you have this magic mansion disguised as a hut?"

"Not that we don't greatly appreciate your hospitality!" the man hastens to add. "But I admit I'm rather curious as well." 

Well, no need for secrecy anymore. "I'm Alanis."

The couple exchange a shocked look. "_ The _ Alanis?" the man clarifies.

Alanis flashes him a humorless grin. "Yup. That's me." 

"Well, this is great!" says the man, smiling broadly. "Perhaps you know a way we can get back to the Material Plane?"

"_Back _ to the Material Plane?" Alanis starts to ask, and then her extremely high intelligence finally catches up and puts the pieces together. "Oh, shit. You're Green Knights, aren't you?"

The woman laughs dryly. "Haven't heard that one in a while." 

“Right, because of all the time fuckery on this plane. I didn’t even think about that. You guys have been here for what, thirty years?” 

“Thirty-two,” says the woman. “How long has it been on the Material Plane?” 

“Like a month,” says Alanis, studying the female halfling’s face. Her hair is darker and there’s a big scar across her face, but...thirty-two years. She knew they looked familiar. “What are your names?” Alanis asks, pretty sure she already knows the answer.

“I’m Derlin,” says the man. “This is my wife, Cran.”

"Of course." Alanis smiles—not much, but more genuinely than she has in a while. "And you ended up getting married. That's great." 

Cran and Derlin exchange another suspicious glance. "I'm sorry, do you know us?" Derlin asks tentatively. 

“Yeah, well, remember when you were Green Teens and you got kidnapped by bullywugs? I was kinda...watching Moonshine and Hardwon and Beverly, so I saw you guys when they saved you.” 

Both halflings perk up at that. “Our scoutmasters!” Cran exclaims.

“And Bev!” says Derlin. “Are you still watching them? How are they doing?” 

Alanis’s heart sinks. “Ah,” she says. “Yeah. Maybe we should sit down.” 

She conjures up some magical couches, as well as some food and some hot drinks and her pipe, and she tells the halflings everything. She even tells them about the wish stones, about how she only has one left and she has no intention of using it until she’s absolutely sure she won’t fuck up again. She doesn't intend to tell the whole story, but it just kind of comes spilling out. Alanis hasn't talked to someone in so long. 

When she’s finished, all three of them sit in silence, staring at the floor. 

“So it’s...gone,” says Derlin slowly. “The Material Plane is just...gone.” 

Alanis nods. “I mean, technically it’s still there, but it’s burned-up, even more uninhabitable than the Nine Hells or Shadowfell.” 

Derlin leans back, runs a hand through his dark hair. “Once Queen Ezra took the Feywild, the Material Plane was all the hope we had. We thought we could get help, or even just go back and meet up with other Green Knights there. But now it sounds like we don’t have any home left at all.” 

“You don’t,” says Alanis softly. “I’m sorry.” 

“Why didn’t you do anything?” Cran hasn’t spoken in a while, but now she’s staring evenly at Alanis. There’s still blood on the halfling’s face, and she's made no move to wipe it off. “Here, I mean. I understand that you couldn’t stop Thiala, but couldn’t you stop Queen Ezra? Couldn’t you save _ this _plane?” 

Alanis is taken aback. “I…I wasn’t really paying attention until it was all already over.” _ I was sitting on the beach in a haze of smoke and depression. _

“‘Cause you could have.” Cran’s voice is very tight and angry. “If you’re this powerful, you could have helped us save the Summer Court. There were real people on this plane, real eladrin and halflings and _ people _ who died or got turned into Queen Ezra’s mindless slaves and we couldn’t save them but _ you _ could have. And they were real, you know? Just because you’re going to reset the whole world and make it disappear doesn’t mean it isn’t real. Our lives here were real. Our _ children _were—”

Cran’s voice gets choked up before she finishes her sentence, and she stands abruptly and walks into the next room. Alanis can hear her let out a frustrated, muffled scream. 

“I’m...I’m so sorry,” Alanis says to Derlin. 

“It’s not your fault,” says Derlin, starting to stand up and follow his wife. “You didn’t know. It’s just been a really hard year.” 

Alanis is left sitting on the couch in quiet shock. Cran is right, isn’t she? Alanis could have saved the Feywild, or at least tried. And it didn’t even cross her mind. 

Her quest, hers and Thiala’s and Ulfgar’s, had been from the start about saving people—not countries, not timelines, _ individual people _ who were put at risk by Ilsed and Asmodeus. They hadn’t always succeeded, but they’d always tried. Thiala had completely lost sight of that, and now Alanis had too. Playing god, just like Thiala. Playing four-dimensional chess with entire timelines like everyone around her—even her _ friends _—were just pieces she could manipulate as she needed to. And maybe that’s how it has to be—maybe she’s come too far to have friendships or people who care about her. Maybe she can’t think about saving individuals anymore, maybe she has to preserve nations and sacrifice some lives to save others and be the one to play the large-scale game.

But maybe not always.

She lights up her pipe and lies across the couch and waits until Cran and Derlin come back into the room where she is. Cran starts to apologize, but Alanis cuts her off. "No, Cran, you were right. I could have done something, and I didn't, and I'm sorry. Whatever the two of you want to do next, I will do whatever I can to help you."

Cran and Derlin exchange a look and a quiet nod as they sink back into the couch opposite Alanis. “Most of the eladrin have fallen to winter, but we think there might still be other halflings out there,” Derlin says. “We know we weren’t the only ones away from the Summer Court when it was frozen.” 

“Captain Toegold was with us, for one,” Cran explains, “but he went off to look for Queen Cirilla and...well.” 

“But we think there are others,” Derlin forges on. There’s a crisp determination in the halfling’s voice, a ferocious holding-on to the possibility that there are still people to save. “We just need to find them and find a safe place to bring them back to. And then…” 

“And then we figure it out from there,” says Cran with a firm nod, linking her fingers with her husband’s. 

“Can you help us with that?” Derlin asks. 

Alanis blows a cloud of smoke, thinking. “I can’t make any promises,” she says slowly. “I haven’t seen signs of anyone but the two of you surviving, and I don’t know if there are any safe places left—the outskirts of the Autumn Court, maybe, or one of the other islands, but I don’t know if it’ll be safe from Queen Ezra’s forces. But I’ll try. I can promise that I’ll try.” 

“That’s all we can ask,” says Derlin.

They fall silent. Alanis takes another long drag and blows a set of smoke rings into the air.

"It's fucked up that we get to live when almost everyone else we know is dead," says Cran darkly.

Alanis nods, staring fixedly at her three concentric smoke rings.

"But we do," says Derlin with a shrug. "Seems like not to live would be an insult to everyone who never got the chance."

They make plans and talk strategy for a little while, then end up all falling asleep in the same room. Alanis wakes at one point to the sound of crying and a quiet voice murmuring something comforting. She lies there in the dark on her magically-conjured couch, both listening and not listening.

It’s after the end of the world. Maybe they can build something here. 

The next morning, the three of them travel together to the outskirts of the Autumn Court, and, without even meaning to, Alanis takes Cran and Derlin to the Feywild version of the Crick. She tells them about it as they start to build a home—about Jolene the Green and Cobb and Marabelle, about the things they did and the things they lost. She tells them about Moonshine and Hardwon and Beverly as she knew them, and Cran and Derlin tell her about them as they knew them. And they also tell her about the Summer Court, about Queen Cirilla and King Lestibourne and how much they loved each other, about how they welcomed the Green Knights and about all the adventures they had there. About Cran and Derlin themselves, growing up and getting stronger and falling in love. 

At first, all the stories are told in short sentences through choked-up throats. But gradually, they become longer. The sunny details start to come out. They start to laugh. Gradually, Cran and Derlin tell Alanis about their children, and Alanis tells them about Ulfgar, and about Thiala. And it still hurts. But now it hurts differently. 

Over the next few weeks, Cran and Derlin continue to build and fortify the settlement while Alanis scans the Feywild for the last surviving Knights of the Summer Court. She only finds about a dozen, but she brings them back with her, and a little community starts to grow. 

Alanis doesn’t settle down there—because she _ does _still have a giant game of chess to play. She still has one more wish stone, and she’s still going to use it. But not right now. She stays at her island in the middle of the sea and keeps building inventions and doing research and thinking, but she visits the halflings often. She's everyone's weird wizard aunt, showing up periodically with magic tricks and really good weed, and she watches the community grow.

They name the village the halfling word for “Hope.” 

Time has always been strange in the Feywild. Alanis’s mansion runs on a different timeline than the village, and it all runs on a different timeline than the Material Plane. But time passes, for years and years and years, as Alanis tries to come up with one more plan. 

For a while, she gets nothing. She can’t help Hardwon and Moonshine and Beverly, or she’ll bring death down on them. She can’t leave them alone, or they’ll die without her. So she'll have to send someone else.

She doesn't want to send Beverly's dad or Moonshine's mom or anyone else who's too close to them—that could just cause more trouble, especially since further research led her to the conclusion that Bev's dad ended up joining Akarot and Ilsed in this timeline, so the man's judgement is clearly flawed. And besides even that, with only one stone left, it's very dangerous to displace anyone from the story as it's played out so far. The less unknown variables, the better. 

So it can't be someone important. The new heroes just need a little push, someone to tip the scales just a little. They need someone stable, and loyal, and practical.

They need a halfling. 

Alanis carefully considers everyone in the village. There are a few possible candidates, but her favorite is Balnor, who is paternal, and unassuming, and good-hearted, and just the most _ ordinary _ person possible. She approaches him with the broad outline of her plan, and is disappointed but not surprised when he says no. 

"I’m not a warrior, I’m just...me,” he tells her. “Anyway, my home is here. My wife and I are having a baby soon. I couldn't leave and go fight some god." 

Alanis nods, cupping a mug of tea in her hands and looking out Balnor's treehouse window at the little brook running through the rows of crops, at the cozy lanterns hanging on lines stretched between the yellow trees. Beyond them, she can just barely see the faint shimmer in the air of all the magic protections that she and the paladins placed over this village. Cran and Derlin and the other Knights of the Summer Court have been gone for years, but this coziness in the middle of an unforgiving world is their legacy. It's the Green Knight legacy. Alanis doesn’t want to leave it either. 

"That's okay," she tells Balnor. "I'm in no hurry. Let me know if you ever change your mind."

As it turns out, the world changes Balnor's mind for him.

Alanis isn't there when it happens. She's not even in her mansion—she's out near the Feywild equivalent of Ezry, hunting down a rare spell component. When she finally makes it back to her island and checks in on Hope Village, it takes her a few seconds to understand what she's seeing. Burned, broken treehouses. Smashed crops. Fresh graves. 

And a lone halfling dad, gray in his hair, quietly doing drills with a beat-up old sword. 

He lowers his sword and gives Alanis a solemn nod as she approaches.

"Did the Hounds do this?" Alanis asks. They're the only ones she can think of who could get past the magic defenses.

Balnor nods. "I think so."

"Anyone else left?"

"Just me."

"I'm so sorry I wasn't here."

Balnor shrugs, and lowers himself onto the trunk of a fallen tree. "Neither was I." 

Alanis sits down next to him and looks out at the ruined village. "Want a drink?" she says after a moment.

Balnor nods, and Alanis passes him a beer and pulls out her pipe. 

They sit in silence for a few minutes. 

Balnor looks over at her. "You still got that time travel thing?"

"I do," says Alanis slowly. "But are you sure? Once I use it, that's it. There's no coming back. This world won't even exist any more." 

Balnor gestures to the ruined village around them. "Doesn’t matter. My family's gone.” 

"Mine too,” says Alanis, thinking of the village, and also, even after all this time, of dwarven snores and soft golden eyes. 

“So if I can do something good for someone else…” 

“You will,” says Alanis. “I promise, you will.” 

She’s had years to perfect this plan, so it’s easy to wipe Balnor’s memory, easy to link his form to a playing card that she can tuck into her most protected pocket. She’ll slip the card into her Deck of Many Things that she took from Gladeholm so many timelines ago. She’ll intercept the new heroes on the road from Galaderon to the Crick, when Thiala is too distracted by her victory to be looking for Alanis yet. She’ll stack the Deck, make sure they don’t draw anything too harmful, make sure someone—Beverly, ideally—draws Balnor. And then she’ll come back to the Feywild and wait and watch and hope against hope that this time _ works_. 

Alanis turns the last wish stone over in her hand and casts one more look around the ruined village. She thinks about Cran and Derlin, about Balnor’s family, about all the halflings who have laughed and loved and died here. Who came past the end of the world and built something simple and beautiful, something which no one but she and maybe, one day, Balnor will remember. 

But it was here. For a while, it was here.

And then she resets the world, and it is gone.


	6. stay

“The moon is gorgeous tonight.”

Alanis opens her eyes. 

It has been so long. At this point, Alanis has spent more time trying to undo what Thiala has done than they ever spent together. She’d almost forgotten that resetting the world meant bringing herself back to this moment. 

But here she is. 

She had remembered the moon. She’d remembered the crackling of the fire, the sound of Ulfgar snoring, the warmth of Thiala’s thigh beneath her head. 

But she’d forgotten about the chirping crickets. She’d forgotten about the way the air smelled, cool and clean and smoky. She’d forgotten how it felt to lie in Thiala’s lap, to know all of her small movements, every breath, every heartbeat. 

“It is,” she says. This moon, tonight, is the most beautiful moon that’s ever existed.

And it will never exist again. 

“I can’t remember the last time I saw a full moon.” Thiala sounds pensive, and almost a little bit in-awe. “Last one we were still down in the Hells.” 

“It feels like a hundred years ago.” Alanis has bent time itself. Thiala has become a god over and over again.

“Feels like yesterday," says Thiala quietly, nearly-divine fingers threading their way through Alanis's curls. 

This is the last time. There are no more stones. There is only one more plan, and then whatever comes after. There is only one more conversation, and then she will destroy Thiala or Thiala will destroy her and either way they will never be here, on the dirt by a fire in front of Thiala’s little stone house, ever again. 

“You’ve got soot on your cheek,” says Thiala. Alanis had forgotten how her voice sounded. How could she have forgotten how her _ voice _sounded?

She catches Thiala’s hand as it goes to wipe her cheek and holds it as tightly as she can.

It was never a game. It was love, and it was always love, and it wasn’t enough. 

“Alanis, I need to ask you—” 

“Wait.” This is not part of the plan, but Alanis cuts her off, barely managing to keep her voice steady. “Wait, just...don’t say anything, Thiala. Just—not yet. I just want five minutes. For five minutes let’s just...let’s just stay.” 

There’s a moment of silence. Alanis stares at the moon through eyes that are swimming, all of a sudden, with tears. 

Thiala leans down and kisses Alanis's forehead. “Okay,” she says quietly. 

In five minutes, Thiala will ask Alanis about perfection and power, and Alanis will say no. There are other people who need her. In five minutes, there will be a fight, because Ulfgar needs something to remember, something to assure him when he comes out of the bloodlust that Alanis was always on his side. In five minutes Alanis will walk away, and she will go to the Feywild, and she will wait there, alone, until it’s time to pass the world’s last hope in the form of a good-hearted halfling to three adventurers on the road to the Crick.

Alanis is no longer the person Thiala and Ulfgar think she is. She is not the girl who laid here with her head in the lap of the woman she loved, believing or at least pretending to believe in a future that would be kind to her. 

But in this moment, for just five minutes, she lets herself be that person again. She lets herself imagine a future where they work together to cure Ulfgar, where the three of them make a home together. Where she kisses Thiala and it’s not bitter, just as sweet and smooth as milk and honey. Where Thiala chooses peace instead of perfection, where they heal together.

It’s a stupid dream. But in this moment, before Thiala asks the question, it could be possible. In this moment, there’s only the crickets in the woods and the crackling of the fire and the big yellow moon.

In this moment they are together, and surely the worst is behind them, and she can feel Thiala breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so, so, so much to everyone who has commented on this fic or given it kudos or reblogged it on tumblr or anything else, it was a privilege to break your hearts <3 this is the best podcast and it's the best game in the world.  
lover of the light: https://youtu.be/-8eB64pXoGU  
the scientist: https://youtu.be/1OmEhxkQoyU  
the archer: https://youtu.be/8KpKc3C9V3w  
in our bedroom after the war: https://youtu.be/eyP_jjv_udQ
> 
> more of this: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20844380/chapters/50342939

**Author's Note:**

> title from "pink in the night" by mitski.  
find me at drinkingdeadpeopletea.tumblr.com. <3 <3 <3


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